Spillin’ The Beans: Ryan Spilborghs retires, will join Root Sports

Ryan Spilborghs hits the game-winning grand slam against the San Francisco Giants in August 2009. He is returning to the Rockies as an analyst for Root Sports. (The Denver Post).

Ryan Spilborghs spent six seasons as an outfielder with the Colorado Rockies, becoming a fan favorite for his walk-up music (“Sweet Escape”), myriad of mustaches, car commercials and his big hits (like the unforgettable grand slam against the Giants). Spilborghs hit .272 with 42 home runs and .345 on-base percentage in 619 games with the Rockies.

To start something like this you want a parable, not a bunch of anecdotes like I’m gonna throw out at you. You want something that someone can really bite into, something hearty, not, “welp, I think I’m gonna move on.” But as simple as that sounds, I think it serves its purpose.

I’ve spent this entire offseason contemplating sacrifices and opportunity, weighing my individual desires and that of my family. What I’ve eventually landed on, and let me say it wasn’t an individual effort, was an agreement with my mind and my heart, that I am going to move on from playing baseball.

I’ve chronicled my adventures in Japan enough for people to know that it took a lot out of me and the pure enjoyment of playing the game. I don’t regret playing there –I loved it — but it really put a part of me into clear focus: being a parent.

I was an obvious void. It’s taken several months just to get the routine and the trust of my kids and wife as being a solid member of the household. No matter how strong a relationship is, seven months away from your family is hard, not only from the actual time gone, but from the ripple effect of being back. That alone made me want to pursue baseball back in the states regardless of the situation.

Ryan Spilborghs in a Japanese newspaper. “They got me talking about my nickname, ‘The Spilly Goat.’ Here, I’m “Spilly Yagi” he said of his time in Japan. (courtesy of Ryan Spilborghs).

During our first family vacation in sometime I received a call from a friend of mine about a possible opportunity at Root Sports. I think it’s always been the obvious next step in my career, a move to media. I’ve had some segments, commercials, radio shows during my playing time, none of which I had ever really asked for. They were all opportunities asked of me and I always said sure because I liked doing it, and it was fun. Funny when you do things with no ulterior motives you get presented with more, and it feels right pursuing those opportunities.

It just happened that offering me this current opportunity could not have happened at a more vulnerable epoch in my life.

I sat down late in October with several members of the Root Sports team, guys I’ve known my entire playing career, and guys I absolutely trust. Basically they offered me a chance to interview for the pre and postgame analyst position. I told them, to be honest, leaving baseball is gonna be extremely difficult since returning to the states after being in Japan has, in my mind, made me better. I also felt that coming back to Rockies on a minor-league contract made the most sense. I felt regardless of where I started I could help the 2014 team be better than they were the last two years (I know). I know I am still a better player than most. There is no doubt I can compete at any level and be successful. But there’s no guarantee I get that opportunity. So what could lure me away from something I know? It wasn’t just the prospect of being a pre and post game analyst. It was also the hope that one day I can sit in the booth and help call a game, not to mention, I would be home every night with my family!

I am absolutely passionate about baseball. I always have been. I love all the little things: the early work, the small nuances of change that occur throughout the season, from batting stances to shoes, from bat models to pitchers tendencies. These are all the things I have always paid attention to throughout my career. I love learning about advance metrics, I love making scouting reports on players I’ve seen, looking for mechanical ques, and I love being part of the fabric of the baseball fraternity. I’ve always known that when I was done playing I either wanted to be a front office guy helping find an under-the-radar player, or find a way to pay it forward, pass on the countless lessons I’ve learned from other men that helped me succeed along the way. This Root opportunity grants me all these desires outside of playing the game.

Ryan Spilborghs cuts up with a llama during a Rockies commercial shoot a few years ago. It’s not hard to see Spilly was popular in the team’s TV promotions. (Troy E. Renck)

Inside the clubhouse we always joke about retiring, good players retire, bad players quit. For 99% of guys who play this game there are no farewell ceremonies, no unveiling of their number on the outfield wall, no name on the ESPN ticker, and that is completely OK. I don’t think most guys who played this game have those ceremonies. If anything they just wanted to play as long as they could. Which brings me to the conundrum that drove my mind to the brink (and my wife).

When do you know you’re done? Do you wake up one morning completely without the fire to compete? I can’t imagine that ever happening to anyone that has competed at any level. Will you just burn out? Will I have to embarrass myself on the field to know I’m done? Like Neil Young once wrote, “Is it better to burn out? Or to fade away?” In my case I guess it was neither or both (however you’d like to describe my career). Mine was to move forward, in a new but familiar direction.

So looking back at it, what stands out, what memories do I most cherish? Most athletes don’t remember every hit or accomplishment, let alone singular games. If anything it feels like one extremely long and blurry game. We remember certain things that happen both to ourselves and others, most of them are the stupid things you’ve witnessed that are the complete anomaly of the game, like in short season A-ball, one of my good buddies, Bernie Gonzales, the best hitter on our team at the time, hit a sacrifice fly to short right field, rather than run to first he tossed his bat to the side and aligned himself to coach the runner at third to slide for his RBI!

Spring training with the Seibu Lions in Japan. (Courtesy of Ryan Spilborghs).

Another time in Oakland, I threw a ball in attempt to get the runner out at second base on a double deep into center field, confusing everyone on the field, fittingly since I was the defensive replacement and often on the bench my taunt to the opposing pitcher was to “throw it in the gap”. Poetic justice.

There are certain things I can’t help but remember. My walk-off homerun ranks as one of my top individual memories, but also the most bittersweet in a year where I lost my mother and my starting job. I remember sprinting around those bases and screaming for the Giants to “get the F$&@ off our field!” It was the excitement at winning a very important game, but also the emotion of a difficult year filled with new life and death.

My greatest memories will always be about winning as a group: you always remember winning a championship no matter the level, no matter the tournament. Winning a championship is something that occurs very rarely. It’s the one thing at the end of my playing days I know I can never achieve, no matter what I do.

Sure I can win an amateur championship in something, or live vicariously through one of my children, but winning a championship at a professional level is the hardest and most gratifying feeling for a player. I am forfeiting that opportunity to feel that again. That part really sucks.

Throughout this process of choosing which path to take I relied on the people I’ve trusted through the years who have played with me, coached me and supported me along my journey. It’s funny when you think about a player’s career, it only addresses the player. The thing is, behind every baseball number, hidden beyond the jersey and the boxscore, beyond the stats and accolades are the people who helped the player reach his potential and dream. I wish every baseball card had a list of people, like the credits at the end of a movie, acknowledging that the player is who he is because of a tremendous amount of help and encouragement along the way from others.

Ryan Spilborghs, Troy Tulowitzki, Jason Giambi and Todd Helton share a laugh during warmups at Salt River Fields in 2011. Spilborghs was always known as a ‘good teammate’ in Colorado, helping relieve the mundane of the season with his levity. (John Leyba, The Denver Post)

I will never forget the day Craig Biggio got his 3,000th hit in Houston. He ended up with five hits and we got walked off again in the midst of terrible road trip. It wasn’t the fact that I always liked him as a player that I even remember this moment. It was that when everyone was cheering him in the middle of the diamond, he shrugged off the praise and simply gestured to his wife and kids, like the maestro of the orchestra that turns toward the audience and points toward his band as if to say don’t cheer for me, these are the ones who made the music. I’ve cried several times at the baseball field, usually when service men and women surprise their children or family on the field after a tour of duty.

Biggio’s gesture was another tearful moment for me. It was the “eureka!” realization for me, especially as a young man, that I have to thank people for their support of helping me chase this dream, that I did not do this alone. The simple fabric of these moments all were cut out of the same cloth. It ultimately comes down to family. A person cannot do what he loves without the support of his peers and family.

Which brings me towards the end, it’s time to say thank you. First off I feel extremely fortunate to even have a platform to say thank you (thank you Troy Renck and The Denver Post), and figure this can be in a small way the chance to say it for other guys that haven’t had the same chance.

Thank you dad for blowing out your arm in our backyard and being proud of me; to my sis for keeping me accountable (who I’m more proud of) my mom for teaching me to always smile, my grandparents for teaching us culture, video taping everything and keeping us spoiled.

To all my cousins (the Canadian ones too!) and the Burg’s, so proud to be part of your family. Thank you.

Ryan Spilborghs has never had a problem making fun of himself or creating laughs. (Photo by Ryan Spilborghs)

To my Little League coaches along the way; the Thomas’ and Holguins’ for teaching me how fun baseball is; my best childhood friend Ross for turning my blood “Dodger blue”; my high school coaches, Fred Warrecker, thank you for giving me a chance to play varsity as a freshman, that confidence was invaluable; to George Rempe who taught me how to breathe and respect the people who fought for this country. The “Mesa Crew” and Dons class of ’98.

To my college teammates along the way; Brad Wright, when I was a redshirt freshman, teaching me a work ethic, the 2001 UCSB boys, “So Lambda” and the importance of being a team; To Bob Brontsema, for helping me mature and develop when it would have been easier to move on. To the Pintard’s and the Santa Barbara Foresters, for showing me that you can impact a community by playing the game the right way, and making my number, 19, more than a number …(I was a junior in high school and called Bill Pintard and told him I was gonna play for his collegiate summer team. He laughed and said ok. His son Eric was battling and beating cancer at the time. He played minor league baseball until he got diagnosed. Rather than feel sorry for himself Eric set out to make kids battling the same thing feel better, and he started “hugs for cubs”, making a point of adopting a child battling cancer to have his number engraved to teams’ hat and playing that season for him. Eric passed away several years later, but his number, 19, pays tribute to him and our community that still revels in his memory and mission).

Ryan Spilborghs learned his all-out style in Little League. He said plenty of people helped him reach the big leagues. (The Denver Post file photo).

To the scouts that saw something in me, to the Rockies for drafting a “Cho.” To my best friend and pro ball roomie (and Godfather in case of serious emergency) Sally, thank you for the push. To the plethora of teammates who shaped my thoughts and philosophies, Matt Kata, all my “brothers from another mothers.” To the Tulsa group, the bus drivers who got us around safely, the clubbies who never got the tip they rightfully deserved. To all the pro ball coaches along the way, so many to even thank, TR, Marv, Giddy, Cole, Mik (get on the championship bus), Bobby Jones, the hitting coaches that kept me “right”, Alan Cockrell, G Hill, “Hate” Brown. To the guys I know that fought for me, Quirk, Gags, and Davey Collins, who absolutely convinced me I could play. All the trainers along the way that iced me, stretched me and kept me healthy, Heater, Scotty G and “Doogie.” To Brad Andress and Brian Jordan, thank you for teaching me the importance of work and “earning your stripes within the walls”. To Clint Hurdle for giving me a chance (funny story: I guess Hurdle one morning during spring training was on the exercise bike watching us minor league guys who were in trouble for not turning in our offseason exercise cards, do your homework kids. At the end of the punishment workout, as I was walking out, I picked up trash that wasn’t mine from the weight room and threw it away, Clint saw what I did when no one was looking. That afternoon I got rewarded by being called up as an extra player in the big league game.) To Dan and Geivo, thanks for encouraging me to have an opinion and a voice. The players union and the wonderful staff that encouraged me to help make the game I love better for the next group of guys, to the late Michael Wiener, who knew everyone’s first name, I felt fortunate to have ever spent time with you, easily the smartest and most passionate man I will ever meet, you and your “Chuck T’s” will be sorely missed.

Manager Clint Hurdle found a niche for Ryan Spilborghs during the 2007 season. (The Denver Post file photo).

To all my guys, Tulo, Atty, Hawper, Matty, Pods, Sully, Cargo (grande bolsa) Nixy, Franny, Fogger, Street, Cookie, too many to name. To the playoff Rocks, it was a pleasure to compete with you and be part of your family. To Todd and “Big G”, thank you for being my greatest role models, you were my heroes coming up through the ranks and became more than that as I got to stand beside you. There is nothing more humbling than a person you look up to treating you as an equal.

To the people behind the scenes, P3 in Santa Barbara, Marcus Elliot and Sam Brown, thanks for giving me the tools to compete, and thank you Virg for getting us together. The families that have adopted me at some point, The Brown’s, Blomes’, Lumbeck’s and Gold’s, thank you for making your home mine. To my late little buddy Trent Gerke, who I met through “hugs for cubs”, who helped me more than I ever could imagine (I got Trent’s number in 2009 from Bill Pintard, Trent was battling cancer and Bill asked me to call him. He was a huge Dodger fan and made fun of me striking out 3 times the night before. I got him every signed autograph from any player he wanted. He would text me, I would call him, and he healed me during a dark period more than anyone ever could. I miss that little guy, and his memory still fuels an idea I’ve had to connect players to kids that could use the encouragement for whatever fight they are facing). My agents Scotty B. and Mike Fiore (this is another long story that I will keep short. We chose Boras because he was the only agent to ever ask my wife what she wanted, including her in the decision, and understanding that this game and business is supported by family.) To Shupper, Lenny and Lentine, our whole family forever holds you most dear (Bill Shupper helped me see my sisters law graduation hours before an MLB game by flying me from San Diego to Santa Barbara and back, that meant the world to her.) To our “angel” in El Dorado Hills, thank you Tamara for teaching us how to live within our means.

Colorado Rockies Carlos Gonzalez and Vinny Castilla enjoying the Denver Nuggets game versus the Oklahoma City Thunder Jan. 9, 2014. Spilly and CarGo have worked out together at Coors Field regularly this winter. (John Leyba, The Denver Post)

It is so hard to keep it short and sweet, but the amount of people along the way that have helped me have been overwhelming. Especially the medical staff in Colorado at Jewish National, to Dr. Michael Iseman (and Joan) and Dr. John and Breana Mitchell, you gave my mom a fighting chance, and gave me arguably the best gift, knowing my mom for the fighter she was. To Keli McGregor, his dent in my heart will never be forgotten. Often, Keli would come to my mother’s bedside while she fought, unannounced and often without my knowledge, just to sit there with her. My mom sometimes would tell me a large shadow sat with her without saying a word. That is true, unbelievable character.

Last, but for good reason, there comes a point in every man’s life, when certain things outweigh others, in this case it has come time to put my wife and kids above all else. My daughter has literally had about 20 different rooms, from renting places for spring training to bouncing around the last couple years. The most important person in all players’ lives are the wives who stand beside him, who encourage them to keep chasing their dream while they keep life moving forward.

To my wife Stacey, thank you for giving me friendship and support for seventeen years; for our two children Kierra and Tatum, and for keeping this family together. I simply shrug and give you the applause, you’re the ones that deserve it.

I have no regrets about walking away. I’ve experienced so much from a career I’m sure few ever dreamed for me. The amount of random paths I’ve crossed, the people that I’ve met and shared moments with have filled me with great appreciation for life and how interconnected we all are. I can’t wait for this next chapter, I know it’s gonna be a challenge, but if I have learned anything, nothing that comes easy is worth wasting a moment of time. Take chances, dream big and gamble on yourself.

Thank you, Spilly, for sharing with us the human side of the game. Best of luck in all your future endeavors. Enjoy being home, and we’re glad you’ll be here in Denver.

the_dude_abides

Good luck, I bet you’ll do really well on TV.

Cjensen23

Thank you, Spilly, for being such a good role model. Whether on the field, on tv, or interacting with fans, you have always carried yourself as a professional who remembers how to be a kid. Welcome back!

jasonwrites

Thank you, Spilly! I really enjoyed reading this. It’s reassuring for jaded fans to know there are players who are thoughtful, articulate, and unselfishly considerate– as well as possessing a wicked sense of humor! I can’t watch ROOT down here in Texas, but I know you will do great there.

53quicksilver53

That was a good read, Spilly. Selfless and gracious. We’ll spend a lot of time together this season, though it will be a one-sided relationship. Good luck on your new endeavor.

Patrick, a third-generation Colorado native, is back for his second stint covering the Rockies. He first covered the team from 2005-2009, helping chronicle “Rocktober” in 2007 and also following the team’s playoff run in 2009.

Nick Groke has worked at The Denver Post since 1997, as a sports reporter, city reporter, entertainment writer and digital editor and producer, among other newsroom posts. He also writes regularly about boxing, soccer, MMA and NASCAR.